Page 37 of Glass Jawed
I breathe in. My throat feels tight. “Even now, I keep thinking—what if we’re kissing, and he looks at me like that again? What if the illusion breaks? What if he’s just saying he wants me, but deep down, that look is still there? It’s stupid.”
Ruth doesn’t jump in right away. She gives me the space to finish unraveling my thoughts.
“Has he done or said anything recently that made you feel that way?”
“No,” I admit quietly. “If anything, he’s done the opposite. He’s... been wonderful.”
“And yet, that look from over a year ago still has more power over you than everything he’s done since.”
That hits me harder than I expect. I blink. “Yeah. But we don’t really know each other that well. I mean... it’s just been—what—a month. Maybe less?”
She leans forward slightly, resting her arms on her desk. “You’re not wrong to be cautious. That nightdidhappen. That version of him existed. And your fear is your mind trying to protect you. But here’s the thing—protective mechanisms don’t always know when to stand down.”
I furrow my brows. “So... what do I do? Just let it go?”
“No,” she says firmly. “You don’t just let it go. You let yourself test the waters. Maybe it’s not about diving headfirst into sex. Maybe it’s about trusting your body again. In small ways. Letting yourself feel desire without attaching shame or panic to it.”
I sit with that for a moment.
“You don’t owe him anything,” she continues. “Not your body. Not forgiveness. Not even closure. But if what you want is closeness... real closeness... then that might mean working through this with him instead of avoiding it.”
I nod slowly. “So I... what? Talk to him about it? He doesn’t wanna talk about it.”
“I know. You told me that,” she says gently. “But maybe don’t make it about him. Make it about you. Not about that night. But about where you’re at. Lethimconnect the dots.”
I take a deep breath and smile weakly. “This is exhausting.”
“That’s healing for you.” She grins. “For some people it’s yoga. For others, it’s reliving their worst day in therapy once a week.”
I laugh despite myself.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like a woman rebuilding. One fear at a time.
??????
An email notification breaks through the chaos spiral I’ve been sinking into over my school assignment the next evening.
I glance at my phone and nearly jump when I see it’s from the concierge.
You have a package waiting.
Yes!
Without bothering to change out of my pajamas, I race downstairs, home slippers and all. Fifteen minutes later, I’m back on my bed, slicing through the tape with my keys and unboxing the package I’ve been waiting days for.
I lift it out of the wrapping with both hands, holding it up to the light. A slow smile curls at my lips
God, I hope he likes it.
Wait. Shit.
Is this... super girlfriend-y? Too much? Over the line?
I chew my lip. My brain offers a solid five seconds of spiraling.
Then I shake my head. Screw it. Lucian can decide if it’s a good gift or not. It came from a good place.
The idea hit me the other night when I was over at his place for dinner. We’d ended up watching a movie, curled up on his massive couch, legs tangled. And on my way to the bathroom, I’d spotted a small shelf tucked into the corner of his living room.
